Tempted by Her Italian Surgeon (16 page)

Matteo was uncharacteristically quiet as they headed down the river path to her mum's house. Slipping his hand into hers, he pulled her against him. Rain fell in relentless waves feeding the swollen river, water dripping in gullies between their layers of clothes.

‘Ivy.' His eyes were dark and intense and misted. And she knew from one look that he wanted her, wanted this as much as she did. There was a promise between them, silent and yet overt. Dangerous. Dark. So very sexy. One step over an invisible line. Her tummy danced and curled and tightened as the sexy look in his eyes seemed to reach into her gut and tease.

He ran his thumb down her cheek, traced a path over her bottom lip.

She bit down.

His eyes grew darker, hotter. His body tensed. ‘
Mi fai impazzire
.'

She groaned. ‘What are you saying? Please, tell me that means come to bed.'

‘Almost. It means you make me crazy.'

‘It could mean
two tickets to Leeds, please,
and I swear I wouldn't care, I just love how you sound. Say more…'

‘
Sei cosa bella. Due biglietti per Leeds, per favore.'

‘Yes. Yes. Anything you want.' Without thinking further than this moment, she pulled him towards her, fixed her mouth on his and tasted him again. Maybe it was the wine that had relaxed her reserve but she felt tipsy with desire, filled with a need that seemed to become more intense, more breathtaking every time she looked at him.

As she heard a moan coming from her throat she was shocked by the spiralling need at her core. She wanted this man. So much. Too much. Her hands circled his waist, palm flattening against that famous backside. With a sudden rush of excitement she pressed herself against him. She wanted to feel every inch of him against her. Naked. Wet.

She began to explore the taut ridges of his back, hands running over wet linen that stuck to a body she'd dreamt about, that she'd seen butt naked on a screen. Until now out of reach, but still stalking her thoughts. Now it was real. It was real and she wasn't going to think too deeply about it. She was going to do what her mother said…she was going to enjoy it. She was going to not overthink it.

Her mother…good God. Ivy felt her body shut down.

No way in hell.

Her heart pounding fast and hard, Ivy turned away from him, away from the path, and strode towards the road. It was slippery and cold and she tried to concentrate on putting her weight onto her right foot but her head was filled with Matteo and his kisses and the wrongness and the rightness. And she was so torn and muddled. The only thing she knew with any clarity was that she wanted to kiss him. To hold him. And that, for so many reasons, seemed the worst course of action.

‘Ivy?' His voice was behind her.

‘I'm sorry, Matteo. I just need to go home.' She knew she was being a jerk. But she couldn't do this. Not with him. Not if it meant she was following in her mother's footsteps. She had to take some time out to think about what the hell she was doing at all. If she was going to do anything, she'd do it on her own terms.

‘Wait. Ivy. Stop! Sto—!'

She kept her head down and eyes fixed forward.

‘Ivy!'

It was fear, not anger she could hear in his voice. Fear? What the—? ‘What's wrong?'

As she turned she felt a thump against her body, and at the same time she heard a screech and a scream. Then pain seared through her leg. Someone flew across her path. A whirr of wheels
filled the air and a crash. A bicycle? A man on a bicycle?

Off now. On the ground. Shouting at her. Her leg hurt.

Blood was starting to drip from his knee. His face was scrunched up. There was blood. Uh-oh. What did she have to do? Breathe? Tense? Relax? She couldn't remember.

Breathe.

Matteo? Where was Matteo?

Strong, warm arms circled her, lifting her off the road as her knees buckled and her vision began to swim.

‘Ivy. What the hell? Are you crazy?' Matteo was sitting her down on the kerbside, his hands on her leg, on her foot, ripping her shoe off. She didn't have the energy to stop him. ‘Are you okay? Ivy?'

She swallowed the pain and didn't look at the man with the bike. It was her fault.

All her fault. She'd spent her whole life being cautious and this one time…this was her fault. She should have been more careful. Right from the get-go. Right from the second she'd downloaded that picture. She should have been more careful.

She did a mental body scan. Her leg hurt, more than usual, but she wasn't badly injured. ‘Yes. Yes, I'm fine. You'd better go and see the man.
I didn't see him. He came out of nowhere. He wasn't there and then he was.'

‘He didn't have any lights on. In this weather.' Matteo glanced towards the guy on the ground. The whirring of the wheels were slower now. The man groaned. ‘Please. Help me.'

Within an instant Matteo was gone from her side, giving her time to take stock. Every time she let herself go just a little, something happened to remind her of the folly of her actions.

‘Ivy.' Matteo's voice was the one he used in the operating theatre. ‘Ivy. I need you to focus.'

‘Y-yes?'

‘Call an ambulance.
Now
. Then come here and give me help.'

‘Okay.' As rain teemed down and soaked through to her skin she did as she was asked, telling the ambulance receiver their location. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking and her body felt as if it had gone into shock. She tried to take a few breaths to steady herself, her voice, mirroring Matteo's demeanour when in medical scenarios. She would not think about the blood dripping from the man's head. ‘What is the injury?' she called over to Matteo. ‘Head injury? Broken arm?'

His voice was too casual as he undid his trouser belt and fashioned a sling around the man's wrist and neck. ‘Tell them it looks like a…' He
slowed down his speaking so she could understand and repeat his words. ‘A displaced clavicle fracture. A bump to his head, a laceration. No loss of consciousness. Tell them it would be really great if they got here pretty soon.' Then he turned to the man. ‘Okay, mate. Sit up and take a few deep breaths. The ambulance will be here soon. You'll be fine.'

‘It hurts like hell,' the man groaned, as he sat on the opposite kerb to Ivy, Matteo's hands guiding him into place but supporting the elbow and taking it very slowly so as not to jolt his collarbone.

Ivy limped across the road, her left foot bruised and becoming more sore as she put weight on it. The man's collarbone looked misshapen at its mid-point. But it wasn't sticking out, as she'd assumed it might. It looked as if it had buckled in on itself. ‘I'm so sorry.'

‘Yeah. You should…watch where…you're going.' Their patient heaved out between breaths. ‘But I should have…had lights on…I know. I know…'

‘Save your energy, both of you.' Matteo interceded. ‘What is done is done. We now have to get this fixed. And quickly.'

Something about his tone had Ivy looking over at Matteo. His eyes were darkened and his jaw taut. There was something more here that she
didn't understand. But he clearly couldn't discuss it in front of…

‘What's your name?' she asked, trying to keep the conversation light, and to keep the man focused on something other than his injury. He grimaced, his eyes fluttering closed as he spoke. ‘Pete. Pete O'Donnell.'

‘Well, Pete.' She smiled at him, digging as deep as she could into her failing reserves. ‘I don't suppose you caught the rugby game today?'

He shook his head. ‘No. I was…going home…to watch…it. Win? Or lose?'

‘A great seventeen-fifteen win.'

Matteo gave a hollow laugh. ‘Depends who you support.'

‘He's Italian,' she explained, hoping to keep Pete interested enough to forget a little of his pain and shock. ‘And not particularly happy. But, really, they played well. It was touch and go at one point.'

In the distance a siren blared shrill and welcome. It came closer and closer and louder and louder and Ivy could see Pete starting to become agitated. Mixed with her relief was a little bit of panic. ‘If you can just hang on a bit longer, they'll have something to help with the pain.'

Pete tried to push her away with his elbow. ‘I think I'm going to be sick.'

‘Okay.' She rubbed her palm gently up and
down his back. ‘It's shock setting in. Take some deep breaths. In. That's it…' She watched as he followed her lead. ‘Great. Now out. In again…'

Within seconds the paramedics were out of the ambulance and giving him some gas and air to help with the pain. Within minutes they'd stabilised his injury, stemmed the bleeding from his grazed head and loaded him into the ambulance. Within half an hour she was alone again with Matteo, facing the real reason this whole sorry scenario had played out. She'd wanted to kiss him so badly it had frightened her.

Her heart hammered. ‘God, that was awful.' Now her hands began to shake again as the images of broken bones and blood flitted back into her brain. ‘I wish I'd seen him.'

‘It is dark and raining and he had no lights. How can he expect to ride on a cobbled street in those conditions and not get hurt? But…' Matteo took her arm and prised her gently from her seated position to standing. ‘He's gone and is going to be fine. But you? Not so much? Tell me what the hell was going on.'

‘I was in a hurry to get back.'

‘Yes? But because you wanted to get away from me.' His hands clenched and he shook his head. ‘One minute you were willing, the next you were running away. I don't understand.'

‘Mixed messages. I'm so sorry. That wasn't my intention. I just got a little spooked.'

He shook his head. ‘You should have told me what you were feeling. Talked to me, Ivy. Not run out into the road. Especially with your leg being so damaged. It could have been serious for you too.'

‘I did not run. I was walking. And I looked before I crossed.' She took his arm and tried not to wince as they turned the corner towards her mum's place. ‘I don't care about my leg and neither should you.'

‘I don't care about your leg. No, I do care. I mean I don't care about how it looks. But now it hurts and I don't want to see you in pain because of me.' He stopped and took her by the shoulders to face him. ‘What is the matter?'

How honest could she be with him without making herself vulnerable? ‘I don't know. I panicked, suddenly. I didn't know what I was doing.'

‘You were kissing me. And it was good. And now you're shivering and we're both soaked and a man has a potentially life-threatening injury.' His thumb ran across her cheek, and his eyes were concerned as he gazed at her. He wasn't cross, as she'd thought he might be.

Even so, her stomach felt as if it had dropped to her toes. ‘Was it really bad? I thought you
were worried, I could tell by your voice. But you stayed so calm.'

‘And you managed to distract him while I stemmed the bleeding and stabilised the break. We were a great team. And you didn't flinch at the blood—too much. A major step forward.' His eyebrows rose and did she see just a little pride there simmering in his pupils? ‘His collarbone broke inwards—it could have punctured a blood vessel or his sternum. He may have—we don't know. But it was an emergency in any case.'

‘Thank God you were there. I feel so bad.' She bit her lip as she thought. How honest should she be? It felt as if the inside of her head was about to explode. How she wanted to be free and open and honest with him, to relax into something good. To tell him all her thoughts and feelings, to lay herself bare metaphorically. Because that was when true and mutual trust happened, she imagined. But she was conflicted, fighting, knowing that by opening her heart she would be gifting him a part of herself—and she didn't know if she could do that. If she dared. Because what else would she be tempted to give him? What else would he take from her? But he did deserve some kind of coherent explanation. ‘I was thinking about my mum.'

Confusion flared, mixed with a little humour. ‘That is not a good sign. You were thinking about
other things when you were kissing me. Is my kissing that bad?'

‘No, your kissing is wonderful. But I was thinking about how she does things and how I don't want to end up like her. She's so dependent. So needy. I don't want to be like that.'
I don't want to lose myself.

He peeled his jacket off and hooked it over her shoulders, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. ‘And you aren't. You could never be like her. You shouldn't have been thinking about anything except the kiss. You want to try again?'

Yes!
At just seeing the look in his eyes, feeling his heat, despite the cold and the rain, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that most of her wanted to do it again. This was so unfair. She was holding onto a very fragile line of sensibility here. Torn between her heart and her head. Between doing the right thing and doing the very wrong one. Although she knew which one would be the most fun. ‘I don't know.'

‘You need convincing? You are a woman and I am a man and there are things we could do that will make us feel amazing.' Scudding his fingers through his chestnut-coloured hair, he shook his head. ‘
Mio Dio
, this is the hardest I have ever had to work to get a woman to kiss me. Ever.'

A surge of pride swelled in her chest now. ‘Good.'

‘Good? How can it be good if we are losing valuable time? We could have been kissing for the last hour. Instead, you want to dissect everything into tiny pieces. It is like you're at a trial and everything's under examination. You want to pick. Pick. Pick.' His fingers tickled her ribs with every pointed word.

Squirming away from him, she giggled. This was supposed to be serious, and he was making her laugh? ‘I don't want to pick. I'm just being careful. I'm—'
I'm a coward.